Mary and the King: Rewriting History
by adb92
Summary: *Set directly after episode 21* Henry II is no more mad than anyone else at court. He has a plan, a vision, which involves Mary Stuart and all that she has to offer. Lemons eventually!
1. Chapter One: You Wouldn't

Chapter One: You Wouldn't

"You cannot be serious. Do you actually think that Mary will have you? _You_?" Catherine screamed, flinging a silver goblet across the room. Henry watched as the wine seeped into one of his favorite rugs, given to him by Diane De Poitiers. He sighed in exasperation and rubbed his temple. After so many years together, he knew that his wife wasn't actually expecting an answer to her question, which was meant to be more of an insult.

"Of course I do. Honestly, I don't see how she will have much of a choice when the time comes." Henry walked briskly, closing the distance between them in three great strides. "Caterina," he breathed, using her Italian name that had long since vanished from court. The king traced a finger along her jawline and to his relief, he saw her face soften, leading him to believe that he'd just pulled on a heartstring. He knew that this was a shocking blow to the proud Medici woman, and for a moment, he honestly felt guilty for making such a request. "Can you not see that this will happen with or without your consent? Can you not see that I am trying to make this as painless as possible?"

"Painless? How on Earth is this painless, Henry?" She slapped his hand away and took a step back. "You are talking about annulling our marriage, robbing me of my crown...declaring our children bastards! My...My entire life and the lives of your sons will be written away on a whim. And for what? So you can steal England? So you can bed your son's wife? Haven't you had your fill of women? You will stoop so low as to steal Francis' wife, knowing how he loves her so?" The softness that had come so quickly left even sooner, replaced with an iron scowl. Henry couldn't help but notice the fine lines etched into his wife's face, which were made more evident when she was displeased.

"Francis is a boy, not a man. Mary Tudor is dead, Catherine. This is the one and only chance France has to claim England, and Francis isn't ready. I _am_. And I'm going to seize this opportunity!"

"Can you hear yourself? I have known for many years that you do not love me, Henry, and I have accepted it with as much grace as God permits me. But your own son? How could you do this to Francis? You have paraded Bash around the castle for years and doted upon him tirelessly. But what of our son? Do you have no love for him at all?" Catherine's eyes welled up with hot, angry tears, betraying her. She hated crying in front of Henry, exposing her vulnerability to a man known for manipulation.

"I love all of my children. I love Francis and Bash as they are both my sons. Francis, however is a boy who was born to take my throne away from me at his earliest convenience," Henry chuckled, much to Catherine's dismay. "Catherine, I know that it's difficult to do when you're so upset," he gestured to her tear-stricken face, "But try to see the reasoning behind my request. I am going to marry Mary Stuart, one way or another. If our marriage is annulled quickly and quietly, as well as Francis and Mary's, then you and all of our children will be free to live out the rest of your lives comfortably. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Of course I don't understand what you're saying! This is the most outrageou-"

"Then I will repeat it for you, dear wife. When our marriage is annulled, you and our children will be free to _live_ out the rest of your lives comfortably." His eyes flashed as he emphasized the word 'live,' conveying his threat with precision.

"Henry...you wouldn't." Catherine's hand clutched at her heart, completely horrified by what the King of France had just implied. She knew that her words were falling upon deaf ears. She knew all too well that Henry was entirely capable of ridding himself of those who proved to be problematic, family or not. The sick irony in Francis' namesake pierced through her veins as she realized that the only way to save herself and her children was to give in to the King.

"I will always do everything in my power to advance France," he said before reaching down to retrieve the silver goblet. "Now, are you going to tell Francis or shall I?"


	2. Chapter Two: Midnight

Chapter Two: Midnight

It seemed like Mary had been crying nonstop since the news of her marriage's annulment had reached court. King Henry wasn't entirely sure why her tears were so delayed, seeing as his plans had been made known weeks ago. Diane's theory was that she'd been hoping for the Pope to delay the annulment or perhaps, realize Henry's scheme and put a stop to it all together. Diane also mentioned that Mary had probably been conspiring with Catherine and Francis, plotting ways to anonymously have him killed before either marriage was annulled. "Poor thing," Diane had said.

Poor thing. Henry marveled at such a statement, his mistress's simpering words echoing in his head. This was one of the kindest things he'd ever done in his life! He had spared the life of Catherine and Francis, giving both of them titles and land, and he was offering Mary something Francis obviously couldn't- England! And perhaps, an heir to secure her beloved Scotland's alliance with France. He'd known for many years that it would be nearly impossible for Mary to conceive with Francis, due to an abnormality his son suffered from since birth. It was the only reason he allowed the marriage to happen in the first place! He had actually paid off Lola, Mary's Lady-In-Waiting, to sleep with his son after she fell pregnant out of wedlock to feign off any rumors that Francis was incompetent.

As Henry slumped against his chair, idly writing some of his thoughts in his journal, Queen Mary was announced. The forty year old king was shocked! Perhaps for the first time in his life, an unexpected woman was at his bedroom door, requesting an audience with him. He stood quickly, adjusting his shirt and clearing his throat. "Enter," he said as calmly as he could.

Mary rushed inside, awkwardly closing the door behind her. Her eyes were cast down, fixed upon the tiles that her friend, Kenna, had once been so obsessed with. Henry, as always, noted her youthful beauty, particularly the natural blush upon her cheeks and flushed red lips. "Your Grace." Mary spoke softly, still staring at the floor.

"Mary, what is it? It's the middle of night?" Henry asked, genuinely confused by her abrupt presence and timing.

"I came to-," she spoke quickly and caught herself, obviously attempting to choose the most appropriate words. Henry appreciated her tact, something that Catherine and even Diane had always lacked. "I came to ask you, one last time, Queen to King. Will you reconsider this path?" He knew that she wanted to cry, it was written all over her solemn face, but she refused. Her dark eyes traveled upward until she was looking right at him. "Will you stop this now, before it is too late?"

Henry knew this was difficult. Francis and Mary cared for each other deeply, they'd essentially grown up together and that was something he understood. He'd grown up loving Diane, after all… But love had never been a commodity to royalty, which was something he had come to terms with long ago. It was time that Mary did as well. "I will not stop, Mary," he said softly, also choosing his words with tact. "You and I will be wed within the week." The color had drained from Mary's face and she looked as though she may faint. "I know that you think the worst of me, that you think I am a man without compassion...without a heart. But I am the King of France and it is my duty to make the best decisions for my people. Even if those decisions are...difficult. You may not understand now, you may never understand why this is happening. But I hope that one day, you can at least know that I did not do this out of spite for you or my son."

Mary hung her head in defeat, clenching her jaw and holding back the tears that were demanding to be set free. "And what of me? What of...us? You are robbing me of my husband, your son, whom I love with all of my being. Am I to simply be a name on a piece of paper that gives you the right to claim England? Will you then dispose of me, as you've disposed of all the other women you've ever known? What of _Scotland_!" Without meaning to, the young queen stomped her foot angrily, causing Henry to smile.

"I hope that one day you and I will see eye to eye. And while I may not be able to offer you a fairy tale love like my son once did, I can promise you that I will respect you and hold your opinion highly," He reached for her hand and clasped it within his own. "And I will protect Scotland as if it were France, which is something that we both know Francis will never be able to do." Mary's eyes gave her away, revealing that she'd known all along that Francis would never be able to produce an heir, finally securing the alliance between Scotland and France.

Mary exhaled, as though she'd been holding her breath for a long time. "Very well then. I will need four seamstresses at once. I won't have my ladies wearing the same gowns they wore at my first wedding, that seems like very bad luck."


	3. Chapter Three: The Wedding

Chapter Three: The Wedding

The wedding was a blur. It was beautiful, of course. Catherine, the newly deposed queen, had seen to that. Henry was allowing her to remain at court and continue raising their children, bastards or not. While they had not been in love for many years, he respected Catherine. He'd taken her crown and her power, the least he could do was show her his favor out of gratitude for her begrudged compliance. Catherine had taken solace in her new title and accommodations, which were just as extravagant and queenly as before. She hoped that one day, Francis would be able to do the same.

Francis, at the suggestion of his brother Bash, had made himself scarce for the past few months. After Nostradamus had publicly acknowledged his vision of the Dauphin and his mother's deaths if they opposed the King, Francis had accepted the fate of himself and his dear Mary. He had allegedly set sail for a new life far away from his old one. King Henry was overwhelmingly relieved with the news of Francis' departure, finally settling his stomach as the pressure of having to orchestrate the boy's death had been weighing heavily upon him. He'd been confident when making his threats to Francis and Mary, knowing that the young pair would choose to be safe rather than sorry.

As the room filled with twirling skirts, music and candlelight, King Henry towered above his guests. Arguably the tallest man in the room, he was able to search the crowd with some ease and soon his eyes rested upon Mary, who was impossible to pass up. She had chosen to wear an extravagant, dark blue gown, much to the dismay of his council. "It's an unspoken protest to this marriage! To you, my lord!" They had cried, completely convinced that Mary had chosen such a mournful color to showcase her protest. Henry knew, deep down, that this was precisely what Mary had done, but he couldn't be bothered to care. She was the most beautiful woman in the room, and unlike Diane, she was completely unaware of it. Henry had to admit, he was enchanted by his young bride.

"Don't worry, Mary. About tonight, I mean," Kenna whispered to her Queen, gently placing her hands on her arm. "The King is many things… But I have never known him to be a cruel lover." The blood rushed to Mary's cheeks at the mere thought of King Henry being her lover at all! "In fact, he has arranged for the consummation to be as private as possible. Only one councilman and one lady of your choice will be permitted inside."

"Perfect, only two people will have to witness my greatest shame," Mary hissed, feeling her eyes grow wet.

"He's trying, Mary!" Kenna blurted out, the edge of irritation clear in her voice. "I am not being wicked, but you have to start thinking like a Queen again. I know this isn't how you envisioned your life...but this is a much happier ending than most. Francis is alive, you will be able to protect Scotland better now than ever before and… He _is_ trying. I have never seen him so nervous- When he said his vows to you, he was blushing, Mary. I've never seen him do that. Not with me, not even with Diane."

"Kenna, please. Don't chastise me. I am completely aware that this was an advantageous move for Scotland, but I cannot ignore that Francis and I have been torn apart. I-" Mary's words caught in her throat, unable to ask if Kenna or Bash had received a letter from Francis. She knew that they hadn't.

King Henry had been making his way toward Mary for some time, edging closer and closer but always being halted by some noble well-wisher. Finally, he found himself standing in front of Mary and Kenna. "You look well, Kenna. How is married life treating you?"

"Very well, my lord. Your son is a wonderful man," Kenna still found herself to be a bit awkward around Henry. She no longer felt anything for him, as she'd fallen head over heels for the Master of Horse and Hunt, but being in his presence was still a bit confusing considering their past.

"Mary, would you like to dance?" Henry asked, feeling himself grow more nervous with every word. He could see her immediate hesitation and spoke again. "Please Mary, come dance with me." And with that, he reached for her hand and led her to the middle of the room, panic written across both of their faces.

As they spun around one another, Henry cleared his throat. "Now that I've finally gotten you to myself, there is something we need to discuss about tonight." Mary's heart dropped further than it already was. "I've arranged for there to only be two guests aside from ourselves, to make things as tolerable as possible for you. I have chosen a close friend, Lord Fournier. You are at liberty to choose anyone you like, though I would think that the Lady Kenna might be a bit close to, erm, home."

Mary nodded before Henry picked her up and spun her around. She'd almost forgotten that they were dancing at all. "Lady Greer, then, my lord." Henry nodded and leaned in close to Mary, causing her breath to catch in her throat. Was he going to kiss her now? Here? In front of everyone? She became painfully aware that the last song of the night was coming to an end.

"Don't worry, my Queen. I have taken care of everything," Henry whispered in her ear. At that moment, the hour was announced: midnight. It was time for the royal consummation.

**Authors note: Please review and let me know what you think so far! Any thoughts on what exactly Henry has planned?**


	4. Chapter Four: Consumed

Chapter Four: Consumed

Mary's lower lip began to tremble as she entered the king's chambers, her hands balled into fists at her side. She refused to make eye contact with her new husband, silently walking past him. Greer walked beside her, the lady's breath quickening as her skirt brushed by Lord Fournier and the King. As custom dictated, Greer turned to her queen and began unlacing her white capelet. "Don't worry," the lady whispered as she slowly removed the garment, exposing the silk nightgown underneath. "The King has sworn to both Fournier and myself that _nothing_ will happen tonight. This is simply a formality."

Henry could heard Mary exhale in relief from across the room. Admittedly, he was looking forward to eventually consummating their marriage, Mary was a lovely and vibrant young woman... but he knew that she'd had already lost enough for now. The last thing he wanted to do was send her into shock and give her yet another reason to hate him. Respectfully, he averted his eyes as the beautiful brunette walked past him in only her nightgown and crawled into the bed. He followed suit, and then the newly married pair were seated side by side.

"Thank you, my lord," Mary whispered, as she dropped the curtain that stood between herself and Greer. "This was a great kindnes-"

"What is the meaning of this?!" Henry bellowed as the door swung open and several unannounced people filed into the bedroom. "Have you no decency? This is a private matter, Lord Fournier and Lady Greer are the only ones permitted to witness this night!"

"Our apologies, your Grace," spoke an unfamiliar yet finely dressed gentleman. "But seeing as there have been a number of annulments," he stated, raising a brow towards Henry, "His Holiness thought it best for many to witness the consummation of this joyous union. Respectfully, my lord, the Pope _expects_ this of you and your Queen...To show France's good faith, of course."

"Very well," Henry said. Mary's dark eyes flashed with panic as she struggled to make out Greer's face in the dimly lit room. "Mary," Henry whispered, leaning closer to her than he dared in the hopes that only she could hear him. "Mary, look at me." He shifted to where they were face to face. Her breath caught as he brought his lips to her neck. "I'm sorry this has happened, but it's out of my control. We cannot defy the Pope," he whispered, kissing behind her ear softly. "But I gave my word that nothing would happen tonight, and I stand by it. If you can act as though we are in the throws of passion, so can I. Do you understand?"

He stayed still, the perfume of her dark hair overtaking his senses. She smelled of jasmine and something else. He couldn't put his finger on it, but in time, he was sure he'd figure it out. "Yes, I...I understand," Mary whispered, fear hinged on every syllable. It was obvious that she did not trust the King.

With that, Henry moved quickly. Before he knew it, he found himself under the thick quilt and looming above Mary, Queen of Scots and France. She had her eyes tightly shut, and for some reason, this pained him. She didn't want to look at him, because she didn't believe that nothing was going to happen. He brought his lips once more to her neck. "It's all right, Mary," he whispered, kissing her soft skin as gently as he could. "It's all right, you brave girl." He continued to whisper his reassurance to her, and to his surprise, he could feel her body relaxing. She no longer tensed every time his lips touched her, and this gave him an encouragement that he hadn't expected or prepared himself for.

Mary opened her eyes for just a moment and looked upon her new husband. She'd never seen him at this angle, as he was usually towering above her. But now...they were face to face, as equals. Oddly enough, she could see why Kenna had been interested in Henry. Perhaps her devotion to Francis had blinded her from the obvious: He was a very handsome man, with strong and defined features and his eyes… those eyes which she had taught herself to hate over the past few months were looking upon her like she was the only woman who had ever existed before. "Kiss me," she whispered. "They want a show, do they not?"

She didn't need to ask again. Henry leaned down and for the first time, he kissed Mary. Her lips were soft, wet and extraordinarily inviting. He felt her slender arms wrap around his neck and pull him to her as he instinctively pressed himself against her form. He could feel the heat emanating from her forbidden paradise and he could hear her own desire in each breath she took. This was not acting. It took every ounce of honor within him to begin his charade instead of consummating his marriage.

Mary caught on quickly to the King's plan. While they were kissing, he had placed a sheet between himself and her, hidden beneath the quilt. Now, he was pressing as close to her as he could while the sheet protected her from his thrusts. She couldn't help but feel pleasure rise within her each time his member rooted against her, frantically searching for her. She wasn't sure when she'd began to gasp, cry out and clutch Henry's arms. She wasn't sure when she'd began feverishly kissing him, her mouth opening each time his body slid down hers. She wasn't sure when she'd stopped acting and her pleasure had began to peak.

Henry was in sync with her, gasping into her shoulder as he heard her orgasm beneath him. "Henry," she cried. It was the first time she'd ever called him by his name. "Henry," she called out, pulling his face to hers for a hard kiss. This was enough to send him over the edge, his seed spilling onto the thin fabric which separated them. He collapsed beside her, the pair struggling to catch their breath. Mary looked at him shyly, her face flushed. He couldn't tell if she was upset or happy and perhaps she couldn't tell either. He wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

"Well done!" Lord Fournier shouted, clapping. The rest of the witnesses followed suit. Henry's charade had worked magically...and perhaps, it had worked magic between Mary and himself as well.


End file.
